Story of Wartorn Valley
The following story details the events leading up to the Battle for Wartorn Valley. It follows key characters, especially Merandar Haifrall. This work is a WIP. 'Part 1 - After the War' 'Chapter 1 - Merandar - Nethergarde Company' Merandar marched in sync with the rest of his platoon into the stone walls of Nethergarde Keep, and mused how much the entire landscape looked like the battlefield he had envisioned. Soldiers kept to patrols all around him as rolling thunder boomed in the clouded sky. Lightning struck the ground around Nethergarde Keep here and there, and the dirt was a simple red. This was, indeed, the damage caused by the Orcish Horde. Now, they were going to pay for it. The platoon stopped in front of the barracks. "Attention!" cried an officer before the platoon, and the entire group stood at attention at the same time. The officer began to walk along the platoon, observant, looking out for any notable persons. He stopped at Merandar. "Who the hell're you, and what you doing here? You look quite fresh, son," the officer said, staring at Merandar, though Merandar seemed a few centimeters taller. The officer, however, noted Merandar's age and appearance. The latter was eighteen in his years, and, though he looked older, he appeared to be about twenty years in age. He wasn't as muscular as most soldiers, though he had some build, and seemed like the mage he was. At least, the simplistic would call him a mage. Merandar, however, was no simple mage, just as this platoon was not a bunch of recruits, but combat-experienced fighters of sword and spell. Merandar never looked to the officer as he spoke, keeping his gaze straightforward in attention. "Sir, Merandar Haifrall, battle-mage of Dalaran, sir!" The officer raised an eyebrow. "How many Orcs have you killed, son?" Merandar had an answer to that. "I don't know, because I don't bother counting. Better to be focused on the battle than on kills." The officer looked over Merandar before nodding, either in acknowledgement or approval. "At ease, soldiers." The newly arrived soldiers followed the command. "Men, welcome to Nethergarde Keep, I'm Captain Harvard. That's all the welcome you'll get here in Nethergarde. The real welcoming committy is the Orcs. You'll fight them, you'll hate them, and they'll do the same to you. If you aren't a man today, you'll become a man soon enough once you get a taste of what you're in for. You, him, me, and the rest of you are all going to be stuck in one group to not defend Nethergarde, but to assault the Orcs wherever they come up. "From this day forward, consider yourselves official members of Nethergarde Company." 'Chapter 2 - Merandar - Savages' A man says, "War is hell," as though he's experienced it, yet now Merandar was inclined to disagree. The Nethergarde Company was practically the best thing to happen to his military career, as the elite were now hunting Orcs as if for sport. The savages were stuck in this land with the Company, and the only one who would be feeling hell were the damn black-bloods. Now, they battled Orcs and Ogres around an ogre encampment west of Nethergarde Keep. Despite how tough both could be called, the Company was having injuries and wounds, no casualties. Merandar was astounded by the natural teamwork of the Company, how each mage coordinated attacks from one foe to the next, without pause, without failure. Ogres were just dead weight on the Orcs as they were both nearly wiped out from the encampment. "Lok'tar!" screamed an Orc racing towards Merandar, brandishing a crude mace. Merandar whipped around to behold the green-skin, and threw a fireball in response. The blast caught the Orc in the chest, causing him to stumble. Taking this chance, Merandar rushed forward with his sword, and thrust it right into the singed chest. The Orc cried out, attempting to reach for the battle-mage, before finally falling to the ground, lifeless. The Orcs had begun retreating from the Nethergarde Company. They were outnumbered and outskilled, without a means to counter. They fled for a narrow, steep pathway up a hill into the mountains. The ogres were left to die, since they were no more than a distraction for the Company. "Look at 'em run, boys! That's what we do, send them brutes runnin'!" Harvard cried out, and the Company responded with cheering. Merandar joined in, but was now wondering about where they retreated. Where did they go? Did they have a group of holdouts in there? "I'd ask Haifrall how many he killed, but we all know he probably killed too many to remember," many of the soldiers joked and said as they returned to the keep. Merandar had fought viciously, putting an end to as many Orcs as he could. It was true; he had no recollection as to how many had fallen to his sword. He, however, wasn't going to brag over kills. He raced over to Captain Harvard. "Permission to speak, sir." The captain looked to Merandar. "Granted, what's goin' on?" Merandar nodded. "I was curious about the Orcs we fought and where they went. Shouldn't we investigate that area at some point?" Harvard nodded. "I'm already plannin' to bring it up to the commanding officers of the keep here. I'm hopin' we'll get a chance to see what's up in that area. Anythin' else to report?" Merandar shook his head, and the captain nodded as the former left. Merandar was pleased with hunting down those brutes. He'd kill as many savages as he needed to keep everything; his safety, the safety of others, and ensure the honor of his Alteraci heritage wasn't disgraced forever by Perenolde. 'Chapter 3 - Merandar - Into the Fire' Merandar walked out of the barracks into formation with the rest of Nethergarde Company. He had taken only a couple additional things with him for this particular expedition, and that was some additional garments. The same was applicable to most of the Company's soldiers, all one needed were the clothes on a man's back and his weapons. Captain Harvard walked among the ranks of the Company. "Men, once again, it is our job to finish what the Alliance started! We are leaving this Keep to engage the enemy on fair ground, and when we meet 'em, we'll laugh at those green, tusked, red-eyed, stupid-lookin' faces, and give him a head full o' lead and a body full o' fire! Am I right, Company?!" The Company stood in salute in response. "Sir, yes, sir!" they all shouted in unison. Harvard nodded. "Damn right I am. Let's move!" The Company began to march out the gates of Nethergarde Keep to go hunt down some Orc. The Company didn't take long to reach the location of their last battle. Ogre and Orc bodies still lay rotting in what little sun there was in the barren Blasted Lands. One of the soldiers kicked a body. "Stupid greenskins." Harvard pointed in the direction of a large wall of nothing but mountain. "There's our destination, boys, you see?" The Company looked in the direction to which he pointed, noticing the steep pathway up the valley. "Orcs are in there, hiding. Seems to me that they have social issues. Let's go say hi." The Company laughed and marched over to the region that was mentioned, climbing the narrow pathway until they came to a huge valley. Merandar was amazed at what he saw. An abundance of resources sat here for the taking. Trees here, trees there, and so many suitable locations for a base. The resources here seemed like they were carefully planned for war. "Alright, spread out and search. Report what you find, and meet up at the right side of this valley in fifteen." The Company obeyed, and moved to scout out the valley. Captain Harvard moved over to the "right side" of the valley to check it out for himself. Merandar rushed to carry out his own task. Merandar ran forward into the mass forest of trees with his comrades as the Company spread out. Merandar seemed to skim through the trees, giving the barest of observation. He walked with a quick pace as he travelled the farthest down the forest. He almost keep walking before he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. An Orcish axe was lodged into the tree, as if the beast had been in the middle of cutting down the tree for their revolting war machines. Merandar looked around towards other trees and noticed several instances of other inhabitants; axes used for chopping wood, piles of lumber gathered in stacks, and things such as flasks to keep laborers hydrated while working. Merandar picked up one of the flasks, holding its head over the ground, and a steady stream of water poured out onto the grass of the land. Merandar put the flask back down before drawing his sword and stave. If Orcs had been here, it was possible that they still were. As soon as Merandar had that thought, a bellow came from behind and he whirled, sword raised, and parried the axe of the strike. Merandar's blue eyes stared with mutual hatred into the red eyes of the evil Orc. The savage grunted, and shoved Merandar forward, causing him to stumble. As the battlemage gathered himself, the Orc charged again, axe raised. Merandar gripped his staff as he skimmed through his selection of spells, and picked one. As the Orc pounced on Merandar, the mage raised his staff, the head of it glowing with Arcane magic. The Orc landed on the head, and the gathered magic exploded with force, sending the Orc flying back. The beast fell onto the grass, sprawling from the magical attack. Merandar got himself up, sword drawn, and raced forward. As he swung his sword down towards the Orc's throat, the warrior's axe was there to parry, and the booted foot of the Orc came up, striking Merandar in the face, causing him to stumble once again. The warrior raised his axe again with a grin, and swung towards Merandar. "Dead meat!" screamed the Orc, in elementary Common. Merandar gritted his teach as he recuperated, and parried the strike once again, and stared up at the Orc through a mess of disheveled black hair. "If you can understand that much, then you can understand this," Merandar growled, "Die, you bastard." The Orc snarled as he tried to force down his axe, but it was too late. The head of Merandar's staff was placed against the Orc's chest. Merandar released the spell, and the Orc cried out in agony, dropping his weapon as both hands flew to his chest, clutching it in pain. The beast fell to his knees, and soon on all fours. "It burns! Human, make it stop!" the Orc roared, before screaming nonsensically. Merandar brushed back his raven hair. "Burning your heart shouldn't hurt if you don't have one. Farewell," Merandar said, leaving the Orc to the painful death he deserved. It meant nothing to Merandar if another Orc died. He had a report to deliver. 'Chapter 4 - Harvard - Into the Fire: Part 2' "Good on you, Merandar," Harvard acknowledged, "One less greenskin in the world. How far out was the bastard?" Merandar looked over to the western region of the valley. "About several hundred meters out that away. There was evidence of Orcs already being there, specifically to harvest lumber. Judging from the looks of things, it was an organized effort with quite a few Orcs. We might have a decently sized pack in here." Harvard stroked his beard. "We'll have to root them out then. In the meantime, though, we've all seen the massive amount of resources out here. I've staked the current, most ideal location for a base over here, on the eastern side of the valley." Merandar nodded. "Sir, permission to gather a group of soldiers to hunt down the Orcs in hiding?" he asked. Harvard shook his head as he began drawing up a basic map. "Negative, Merandar. This is new terrain to us. For all we know, the whole Horde can be in here, waiting it out. We have to wait for the situation to develop before we draw conclusions." The young Haifrall arched an eyebrow, but saluted in acknowledgement. "In that case, I will–" he began, before he was cut off by the blaring sound of a war horn. "Orcs!" Merandar barked, and drew his weapons. Harvard drew his sword, gripping it both hands as Merandar took initiative to shout orders to all of the Company. As Harvard rushed forward to join his comrades, he was, for once, surprised by how many Orcs had come to fight. Enough to reenact the battles in Aerie Peak, that was for sure. "Mok-thorin ka!" cried a loud, booming voice from amidst the Orcs, and Harvard soon found the owner. The raid leader was clad head to toe in steel, spiked like any other Orcish armaments, and carrying a pair of brutish war axes. The forces of the Horde and Nethergarde Company met in the battle, and Harvard carved his way through the Orcs to the war leader. Harvard's massive sword swung towards the Orc, clashing with the pair of axes. The Orc grinned at Harvard through his helm. "Pitiful human! Karg crushes you!" the Orc said with a sneer as he shoved Harvard away. The human captain scoffed. "I'm a knight of Stormwind, Orc. You'd best give up. Don't think I haven't forgotten the First War we had!" Harvard roared as he attacked once more. Karg threw out a foot, catching Harvard in the gut and sending him back. Karg roared and pounced on Harvard, blades falling towards the human. Harvard parried the blades and threw Karg off, getting himself up and bracing for another attack, which came readily. Karg threw the axe in his left hand at Harvard with amazing speed, and the human couldn't move in time. He roared in pain as the axe carved a fairly large wound in his right arm, his sword arm of all things. The Orc pressed the assault, swinging the last axe he had towards Harvard. Using what strength he had, he raised his sword to parry the axe, just this once. He threw the sword at the Orc and drew his broadsword to battle with relative ease. The massive sword of Stormwind caught Karg in the face and he stumbled back, before looking up from the sword on the ground to Harvard and laughing. "Amusing. That the best you can pull off?" the Orc asked in crude Common between moments of laughter. Harvard shook his head. "Nah. I got more up my sleeve," he said, and drew a pouch of powder and leaves. As Karg raced forward again, Harvard threw the pouch at the Orc, and it caught flame, growing into a full-fledged fireball worthy of a mage. The fireball caught Karg directly in the face and he roared as he raised a gloved hand to his face. Harvard took the obvious chance, charging forward, sword in his left hand as his right arm became numb and lost feeling. He struck out, towards the Orc's throat. Karg threw his body to his right, and the broadsword only managed to catch the Orc's green arm. An arm for an arm, it seemed. Karg hurled himself at Harvard, snarling, and managed to leap onto the human. The spikes of the armor pushed into Harvard's armor, but did not manage to pierce it. However, the weight of his armor and the weight of the armored Orc took the wind out of the human, and Harvard gasped as he was unable to breathe, and felt several of his bones break under the weight of the Orc warlord. Karg reached out, grasping the Alliance sword in one hand. He raised the sword. A loud battlecry from a human came, and Karg looked up at the charging soldier. He grinned down at Harvard, and dropped the handle of the heavy blade on Harvard's throat. The human gasped as the weight dropped onto his throat, and his weak arms flopped helplessly around the thing as Karg stood, drawing his axe from the ground to fight the humans. Harvard's finger fumbled around the handle, trying and failing to grasp the handle and lift it as his vision dimmed. He couldn't breathe, and the drained energy resulted in his arms falling to his sides once more, as his eyes closed. The last thing Harvard could hope for was that Merandar could figure out what to do. Category:Stories Category:Nethergarde Company Category:Orcish Horde